An Archmage Among Adventurers

The streets of Greymire settled into their evening rhythms, soft with the twilight fading into dusk. Ellie made her way through the crowded square, her copper guild token hidden in the folds of her cloak. The token had felt heavy in her hand earlier, a reminder of the tightrope she was walking.

But now, in the cool evening, she allowed herself the faintest hope that perhaps it could all work—perhaps no one would press her too hard, and she could drift in the shadows of this town as she had planned.

But the adventurers’ eyes were sharper than she had expected.

It started with a glance. A man leaned against a stone wall, arms folded tightly across his chest. His piercing gaze followed her. “Look at that one,” he muttered to a companion, who nodded, eyeing her suspiciously.

Ellie instinctively pulled her hood lower and quickened her pace, but the feeling of his scrutiny lingered, an unwelcome prickle at the base of her spine.

She diverted into the quieter side streets, avoiding the square where guild members congregated like predators. The narrow alleys felt safer, their shadows more forgiving. Yet the guildhall was inescapable—a living organism pulsating with whispered conversations, furtive glances, and an undercurrent of tension. Here, everyone knew everyone else’s story or was eager to learn.

And Ellie Liddell, it seemed, was already an anomaly.

When Ellie stepped inside, the atmosphere thickened. The chatter faded momentarily as heads turned in her direction. “Ellie Liddell,” a woman called out, her tone dripping with curiosity. “What brings you here tonight?”

“Just passing through,” Ellie replied, forcing a smile.

“Passing through? Or passing judgment?” another voice chimed in, laughter bubbling just beneath the surface.

Ellie felt the weight of their gazes, the unspoken questions hanging in the air. She glanced at the trophies adorning the walls—each a testament to someone else's glory. A chill crept down her back as she forced herself to blend into the crowd, each step a careful negotiation between blending in and standing out.

She took to sitting at a corner table, hoping to blend into the background, to become just another name in the ledger. But the less she said, the more interest she seemed to attract.

Across the room, a pair of adventurers—both young, their armor still polished, their faces still unscarred by real danger—cast glances in her direction. One of them, a tall woman with braided hair and an axe slung across her back, whispered something to her companion. They both laughed, though there was no malice in it, only curiosity.

Ellie kept her gaze fixed on the mug in front of her, though her pulse quickened. She knew that kind of look—it was the same one she’d seen in nobles’ halls, among those who didn’t know whether to treat her with pity or indifference. Here, though, it wasn’t pity they were after.

Finally, the woman with the axe stood and crossed the room toward her.

Ellie took a slow breath, keeping her hands steady on the table. She had no desire for confrontation, but in a place like this, silence could be its own kind of challenge. She needed to navigate this carefully.

“Ellie Liddell, right?” The woman leaned one arm on the back of the empty chair across from Ellie. “The new mage.”

Ellie nodded but said nothing.

The woman smiled, a glint of something playful in her eyes. “Funny, haven’t seen you cast anything yet. You one of those secretive types? Don’t like to show your tricks until the last minute?”

There was an ease to her tone, a casual testing of boundaries. Ellie knew that this was the moment when others would boast, make some declaration of power or reputation. She could feel the weight of the room behind her, the quiet hum of interest as more adventurers began to notice the exchange.

“I don’t cast unless I have to,” Ellie said, her voice steady, though the words felt strange in her mouth.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Oh, one of those, huh? Dangerous when cornered, quiet the rest of the time?”

Ellie shrugged, forcing herself to look calm, even indifferent. “Something like that.”

The woman stared at her for a long moment, then leaned back, laughing softly. “You’re a strange one, Ellie Liddell. I’ll give you that.”

Ellie could feel the tension begin to unwind in the air, but it was a fragile thing. The woman’s curiosity hadn’t been satisfied; it had only deepened. Across the room, more eyes turned toward her, whispers spreading as they began to construct their own stories. She could feel it happening, the narrative already slipping out of her control.

Another adventurer—a man with broad shoulders and a long sword strapped to his back—approached, joining the woman by her side. “What’s this about?”

“She’s a mage.” The woman grinned. “But she’s not keen on showing her magic off.”

The man crossed his arms, looking Ellie up and down with a kind of casual interest. “Is that so?”

Ellie held herself still, feeling the tension rise again. She knew what was coming next. It always did—some challenge, some provocation, a test to see how far she could be pushed.

“I don’t have to prove anything,” Ellie said quietly, but her words carried enough weight to still the growing curiosity in the air.

The man tilted his head, considering her. “Fair enough. But you know, around here, people get noticed for what they can do. Keeping to yourself is fine for a while, but eventually, someone’s going to ask what you’re made of.”

Ellie felt her pulse quicken again. She met his gaze, holding it just long enough before lowering her eyes back to the table. “Then they’ll find out when the time comes.”

Her answer hung in the air, a calculated deflection. She had learned, over the years, that sometimes the less you said, the more people filled in the gaps themselves. And that was what she was counting on now—that they would mistake her avoidance for confidence, for power hidden just beneath the surface.

The man exchanged a glance with the woman, then shrugged. “All right, then. We’ll be watching.”

With that, they turned and left, their curiosity temporarily sated. But Ellie could feel the new weight of the room, the quiet buzz of conversations that had shifted to her, the story they had already begun to spin in their heads.

She was no longer just a new face at the guild. She was something else now—something mysterious, dangerous.

It was both a blessing and a curse.

As soon as the room’s attention turned away from her, Ellie stood, her legs a little shaky beneath her. She made her way to the stairs at the back of the hall, the narrow ones that led up to the rooms for adventurers who needed a place to stay. She climbed them quickly, the weight of the stares still pressing against her back, though no one followed.

Once inside her small room, Ellie locked the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

They believed her, for now. But how long could she maintain this lie? How long before someone truly tested her, pushed her beyond the vague promises of power she couldn’t deliver?

She crossed the room to the narrow window, peering out at the darkening streets of Greymire below. The flickering torchlight cast shadows against the stone walls, but there was no comfort in the dimness. Ellie’s reflection in the glass seemed just as uncertain, just as ill-fitting as she felt.

Tomorrow would come, and with it, more questions, more eyes watching. And Ellie Liddell, whoever she was, would have to keep finding ways to stay one step ahead of the truth.